Egg on your Face
Somewhere bordering the Slums and Downtown...
Cordial Avenue sat utterly still as the hellish fog wave engulfed it, saturating the air with its dark power. For just this time, there was complete silence. And then, slowly but surely, the sound of ragged breathing from beneath the rubble.
A single demonic arm emerges from the mound of brick in the center of the street. And then more. Suddenly, the street was filled with demons who had been thought to be dead, their bodies contorting viciously before the eyes of anyone watching. Growling, and regarding their surroundings with red-hued looks of pure disgust, the demons begin to regroup.
"THAT THRICE DAMNED SHE-WITCH. I'LL GET HER BACK FOR THAT TRICK, I'LL TELL YOU WHAT. COME ON, GET OFF YOUR ASSES FAIRY BOYS. YOU'RE LUCKY THAT POMPOUS PIECE OF WORK UP TOP DECIDED TO SPARE YOU FROM A TRIP BACK HOME. NOW, WORK FOR YOUR MIRACLE, BEFORE I HAVE TO CHANGE HIS MIND FOR HIM."The Demon Captain was just about to begin walking towards where he thought the witch might have went, when he stops, tilting his head to listen for a sound he had only just barely heard. The sound of rubble shifting.
"HM?" He turns his head around, considering the band of demons standing about him in all directions.
Nobody seemed to be missing, so who else could be crawling out from the rubble?
Somehow, despite his empowered state, a feeling of unease sinks over the Captain. He steps away from the center of the group, watching the hell fog swirl across the wreckage of the building and features of the street.
*CRUNCH*With a sickening noise, he steps on one of the many, scattered corpses of the Bad Eggs. Scowling with disgust, he shakes his foot to dislodge the shards of eggshell and thick, viscous innards of the dead familiar. In the corner of his vision, he spots a bit of debris being shifted, pushed up from below by something attempting to climb out.
Grinning wickedly, he was only just beginning to walk towards the movement when he's cut off by a deafening, demonic scream.
"AAAAAAAAAAAARGHHHHHHHH" One of his subordinates lets out a howl of terror and pain as they're knocked backwards into their fellows. All at once, the entire band of demons turns to the source of the noise. And they see it. A sight that would haunt them for the entirety of their impending journey back into the depths of hell.
It was an egg with legs.
It glared at them with eyes shrouded in red light, an avatar of pure hate made yolk. Cracks were visible across every surface inch of its body, and yet it stood. Unhindered. Unbroken. Unhinged, high on the terrible energies it absorbed through the cracks in its hard shell, and wanting nothing more than revenge on the one who had broken it.
It had no mouth, and yet they could hear the hoarse, rattling breathes it took using the spiderweb of cracks running across its face. All at once, the demons seemed to notice the breathing multiply and advance. Hundreds of Bad Eggs, thought destroyed during the prior battle, began to reform as they took in demonic energies from Balthazar's own magic and surrounded the demonic host. They were, after all, essentially demons themselves. It was only natural that the very magic that revived their enemies would revive them as well.
"AGAIN WITH THE EGGS. WHAT A JOKE." The demon captain, for what it's worth, managed to appear unfazed. He knew firsthand from fighting the eggs that they did not possess very much martial ability at all. They relied on a cheap curse to inflict harm, so he and his warriors had nothing to worry about. Now that they knew the weakness of their enemy, they could exploit it and avoid wearing themselves down the way they had last time. What's more, increased as their power may be, the Eggs certainly received more or less the same boost in power as the demons. In theory, the two boosts in strength and durability should cancel each other out.
There was nothing to worry about. That's what the demon convinced himself of, as he drew his sword from the nearby dirt and faced his men.
"WHAT, ARE YOU GOING TO LET A BUNCH OF PRODUCE BEAT YOU A SECOND TIME? STAND YOUR GROUND. EVEN WORMS LIKE YOU SHOULD BE ABLE TO MATCH A DOZEN OR TWO, BEFORE YOUR INSIDES START TO LEAK OUT YOUR ARSE."And thus, after a cry of assent from his forces, the demon commander begins the arduous process of cleaning up the resurrected horde of Bad Eggs. The eggs, sensing a counterattack, scream silent cries of hatred from their bloodshot visual receptors as they charge inwards, dashing their heads against their enemies.
The demons' attentions were completely consumed by the enemies before them. It would only be if they succeeded and finally took a moment to observe their surroundings that they would notice there was something strange going on.
In this street that should have been empty besides them, they were being watched. From every rooftop, from every windowsill and doorway, watched on pairs of bloodshot, glowing eyes. Like pinprick sparks of the flames of hatred found only in the deepest depths of Hell, the eyes watched, silent, patiently awaiting their moment to strike.
And among those eyes, one pair was much larger than the others, and accompanied by the soft, barely distinguishable glow of a lit cigar. Puffs of cigar smoke snake upwards from this figure, obscuring it from view, but it was clearly many times larger than the others fighting in the streets below.
Its egg-like silhouette seems to heave, rumbling with unheard laughter.
And it waits.
Meanwhile, on a nearby street...
The initial wave of fog approached rapidly, cutting short the reply Margaret intended to field. Sighing to herself, the elder witch regards the oncoming storm of demonic magic with an almost comical ease.
"Oh dear me, is that really how he plans on doing this?" With an exasperated look and a shrug at her shrine-maiden friend, the fog front reaches Margaret, obscuring her from view.
It wasn't long before the priest's sacred barrier cleared away the fog, revealing a most unusual sight in the place where Margaret should have been. To all conceivable senses, Margaret was gone, and in her place sat a rather conspicuous and fabulously proportioned cast-iron pot.
Just when any observers might have begun to register the existence of the pot, out pops the witch's head, her wide hat barely touching the edges of the pot's rim as she takes a look at her surroundings from with.
"Ah, thank you for that young miss. I left my foghorn in my other satchel, so I was quite worried I might not be able to find my way around in that murk."Foot by foot, as if climbing out using a ladder, Margaret emerges from within the pot and glances approvingly at the barrier she owed her openness to.
"Solid foundation, that. Colour me satisfied. One of my students would have done it in two seconds or less, though."And with that dismissive remark, the witch steps out from her pot and places her hands smugly on her hips.
"Well, some demon he is, can't even summon a hell fog able to pierce this middle schooler's bargain bin barrier. Honestly, I'm not even quite sure this occasion was worth the travel here. Ah well, if I'm here I might as well do my part!" She turns to Gretchen, smiling affectionately despite having just met the girl.
"Hmm, I suppose you could say that. That means we're both headed for the same goal. That dank old cloud up yonder way. To get there, I reckon we'll have to clear out the downtown area and likely ascend one of the cities central towers. Real risky business, lots of demons to deal with. I couldn't call myself a teacher if I didn't accompany you there. Great heavens, you would have to engage with all sorts of undesirable folks along the way. Capitol City is no place for a pure little lady like yourself."And so the party is formed. Whether Gretchen liked it or not.
